Working Title (Ch. 1.)
#2 of Working Title
From the personal audio travel log of First Technical Officer Franklin J. Deacon.
April 10th, 1995. 1 day underway.
_Finally, New York City is dropping below the western horizon.
Had supper with the captain, the rest of the upper levels of the crew, and a couple VIPs. Roast duck in a strawberry-wine sauce, some other high-class stuff, and endless bubbly.
Jesus jumping Christ on a pink bicycle, give me a good thick greasy cheeseburger and fries from that place in Quincy Market, chased with a Coke any day- that nobby food ain't for me.
Speaking of the good captain, we picked him up at the last second before departure, instead of the man Corporate had said would be settin' in that chair months ago.
He seems decent, even though his accent is thicker than chowder. Seems Corporate thought he'd be a better choice than ol' Cap Stevenson._
_If you ask me, a cap'n should be a big man about the same shape as a Coke machine, but this guy seems to know what he's doing- such a tone of command, too!
Seems there is decent cap'n material buried deep in him, despite his take on captaining._
April 12th, 1995. 2 days underway.
_Mutterings among my Maintenance/Technical boys. Seems we got ourselves some Soviet master of disguise on board.
Several ships I've been on, I've heard the same thing. Apparently, given less than ten minutes, the guy can be anyone, for any reason, at any time, and is tricked out with state of the art gear.
Met a couple of the high-rollers at supper this evening. One is a Mister James Morrison. (Author, no relation to the musician.)
The other is none other than Shawn Ikrian, son of Doctor Gerald Ikrian, founder of Ikrian Mechanical Solutions, Limited!
Seems the good doctor has been using young Shawn as a lab rat- he told us all (In graphic detail, might I add at this point) about the doohickey at the base of his spine that he attaches mechanical tails to, and how it lets his brain control the movements of them.
He didn't say why he wears that eye patch, but the clicking noises worry me... He also didn't share how he heard these two pretty young dames talking about him four, five tables away, in a full-to-capacity room that holds about 150 people- all talking at once._
April 13th, 1995. 3 days underway.
Data from the satellite programmed to follow us shows we're about halfway done with this trip. Lost reactors 3-6 today, propulsion pods 3-5. We were able to repair all three pods, restore reactors three and four to full reaction, five and six to half. I'm not sure I like this nuclear-powered city of a ship anymore...
April 14th, 1995. 4 days underway.
_I think I like that kid Shawn. He keeps me company most days, asking questions about whatever it is I'm fixing at the moment, and then switching to personal topics without me realizing it.
Smart kid, senior at his public school (go figure- one of the richest men in the world sends his son to a public school.) at 15, top of his classes. Shakes my hand and calls me 'Mister First Technical Officer' when he greets me. Strong grip, but his hand's always cold, and his skin feels funny... almost like latex._
The cruiser that's served as our escort till now's dropped away. Another will be supplied for the last leg of our journey, probably from Jolly Old England.
April 15th, 1995. 5 days underway
_As predicted, the second cruiser's shown up, a modest 50-footer with full gun batteries.
Captain hailed them; they ran up a flag nobody expected.
Instead of a friendly Union Jack... a Soviet Hammer/Sickle.
Cap didn't seem too worried about our little passenger-ship Hamlet, in fact he happily spent a couple minutes chatting with their skipper in that language of theirs what sounds like they're clearing their throats.
I was under the impression that the Soviets were dead-set against us, but she doesn't seem to be hostile.
Big fogbank straight ahead. I don't like the looks of it, looks like the type that hangs out around an iceberg, but there's nothing to be worried about; radar's picked nuffin' up._
April 16th. 6 days underway.
_Late today, our escort disappeared into thin air. At the same time, we lost communications with the satellite, and all nav instruments.
Checked 'em out- nothing's wrong with them; there's nothing for them to be measuring._